I think a huge part of it isnt even corporatism, but social and cultural avoidance and fear of death. US culture, the only one I claim to speak for, is in denial about death. We hide it away, pretend it wont happen, and then when it does, we lie to the children and try to suppress it ourselves. We drag death out medically, and then have no time to be with the dying. Doing this leads to not only neurotic choices from the living, but strips some of the poignancy, beauty, and urgency from life itself.
One of my saddest, but also most powerful, raw, and formative memories was watching my grandmother die when I was 12. Her lymphoma had relapsed and she chose to put her effort and energy into preparing for her death instead fighting medically. She was a strong woman and fully prepared her estate. She collected every document, listed every account, and wrote detailed instructions (Later, my dad would still find things like the pinkslip pre-signed and in the glove box of the car when he went to sell it.)
When her time was close, my family pulled me out of school for two weeks and we went to stay with her until she passed. I mostly played in another room, but when it was time, I was called in and we held hands and watched her last breaths, and listened to her death rattle together, and cried together. That was the first time I saw my father cry.
It was tremendously sad, of course, but also beautiful, because it was the culmination of a life well lived. I learned a lot that day about the fleetingness of our short lives , the value of agency, and the human endeavor. It is the greatest gift my grandmother ever gave me and she did it from her deathbed. Sometimes when I lack motivation and struggle, I consider what I would want, think, and wish from my own deathbed. I consider the impact I want to have on my loved ones, and the cultural legacy I want to leave.